


If You Would Just Smile

by Ahigheroctave



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahigheroctave/pseuds/Ahigheroctave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's still on the outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Would Just Smile

**Author's Note:**

> AU. Set in summer between S2 and S3.

The door cracks shut.

He’s still on the outside of it, standing in the hallway of yet another cheap motel. It’s raining outside and his dark wash jeans are soaked through. The chaffing is uncomfortable, superhuman or not. And all he wants to do is go inside their dank room that smells faintly of mold, peel them off, and jump into the teeny tiny bathtub with a glass of whatever he can wrangle up.

Instead, he lets himself sink down against the shut door. He tries to block out the crashing noises of slamming drawers and tears, because right now he wants nothing more than to give her the god damn privacy she keeps asking for. He wants to go downstairs, take his car and drive to wherever the closest dive bar is and drown his sorrows in whiskey. He wants to rip the stupid fucking necklace off her neck and make her forget, just make her not be sad anymore.

Except he promised things when he brought her here. Like no more compulsion on anyone, anytime. No more live feeding. No more drinking because it can cloud his judgment calls on the first two, as well as so many other things. And if she decides at anytime he has to go home, there is no turning back. Stefan saved his life after all, Stefan is still a martyr, he will always be the disappointment.

He bangs his head against the door in frustration.

The cheap lock buckles under the force and suddenly the wood falls away, causing him to fall over and straight onto the floor before his tired, lethargic blood bank senses can catch up with him.

He blinks a few times, trying to regain his composure. And suddenly she’s standing over him, and as soon as a look of relief that he’s okay comes over her face, she starts snorting with laughter. The tension in his shoulders seems to unknot a little and then before he knows it, he’s clutching his stomach and rolling around on the pungent brown carpet.

Her knees buckle and she joins him and for a while they just laugh and giggle and forget about the whole world. He rotates onto his side and sees her bright brown eyes right in front of him. The little creases at the side, her lips parted just a little to reveal her even teeth. She sees him looking and licks, just ever so slightly.

And all the sudden, it’s dead silent again. She jumps up and fiddles with the hem of her shirt, always the same blue. He clears his throat and starts riffling through his suitcase again. There is no more joy, no more fun. Back to the hunt for Saint Stefan, angst is all that’s allowed.


End file.
